Green Sunsets
by LongLost10
Summary: A sequel to Black Ties and White Shirts or standalone fic. Agents Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson are sent to Florida to investigate a claim. Will this picture-perfect paradise turn into a place of misery and horror? AU.
1. Prologue

**So this is the prologue to the sequel of my fic Black Ties and White Suits, however this fic CAN be read stand-alone (Although feel free to read and review BTaWS too!).  
****For those reading this alone, this prologue will hopefully catch you up on everything you missed.**

"I can't believe you went back to him."

"I didn't try, sir. It just happened."

The silence between the Commander and Agent Kurt Hummel grew thicker as they tried to stare each other down. The Commander was in his usual grey suit while the other boy sat across the desk, feeling a little uncomfortable in the black suit and tie he wore. It was more or less common knowledge at this point that Kurt hated the formalwear that the agency required.

"You broke the main rule. You've known about it since your Scout days and we thought that bringing you on full time you'd actually listen to them." The man's grey eyes bore into Kurt's own blue-grey.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll remember next time."

The Commander sighed. "There is no next time." He said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. Kurt watched as the man's fingers interwove with each other. "If you had more experience, I probably would let this slide, but you're new, your relationship with this boy is not just a casual one... you've met up more than once... Hummel, we have to let you go."

Kurt's eyes opened in surprise, unable to comprehend what had just happened. But in fact, what had just happened was really quite simple.

Two months ago, Kurt Hummel had been taken out of his design class at college to be sent on a mission by the CIA. He had been trained by the CIA as a sleeper agent when he was in middle school using the cover story that he was in the Boy Scouts. Finally, he had been called up to service and sent to investigate the disappearance of twelve boys.

He had spent more time with one of the boys than any of the others, a one particular Blaine Anderson. He was a senior in high school a few miles away from where Kurt lived and after they both got home (Kurt managed to snag a mini-vacation in Lima), he found the other boy dealing with the emotional damage that he had gathered while captured.

They met up in coffee shops, mainly, after Kurt found him in the apartment Blaine shared with his classmates. It took a while for Blaine to relax more, to start singing again. His time in the warehouse where he was imprisoned for a while stole most of his happiness. It was hard for him to get back into the swing of going back to school again.

Kurt helped him through it.

Late nights in the rented apartment were spent alone, often watching Disney movies or musicals curled up on a coach together. Despite Blaine being the one who needed comfort, he'd wrap his arm around Kurt and let the other boy lean his head on his shoulder, as if being strong for Kurt was the only way he could be comforted. Not that Kurt really minded. He liked listening to the other boy's heartbeat.

And just the other night, he had enjoyed the feeling of Blaine's soft lips right under his left ear.

"But sir. I haven't had a mission since you've hired me." He protested. While he did enjoy his time working with the fabrics up in New York, there was a small part of him that missed the adrenalin rush of jumping off a rooftop and landing in a tree.

The Commander sighed. "Give me a reason, Hummel. I like you. You're efficient, precise and can improvise better than anyone else your age that has been through Scouts. But rules are rules."

Kurt racked his brain. For such a great improviser, he couldn't think of a damn reason for the Commander to not throw him on the street and out of a job. "I haven't told him anything about it. I haven't spoken of Scouts or the facility or anything. We barely talked about the mission itself. He just needed someone to get through the mental damage that was done to him. I was just finishing the mission... to bring the boys back safe and sound."

He thought about it a little more. "Look, he's in his school's boxing club." Sure, Blaine had said Fight Club, but he thought 'boxing' might be the word to use in this scenario. "He's athletic, is already trained in some martial arts... train him for the agency. He's in a dead-end situation. He can't focus in school and he hasn't gotten an acceptance letter from any school. If you put some effort in him, he'll pay for his training five times over."

It was a slim shot, but maybe the Commander would listen. His own eyes were pleading but he knew there was next to no way that the older man would listen to him. How often were agents on the verge of being fired taken up on their offer?

"Alright." Kurt blinked in astonishment. Was he being serious? It was a simple plea- to save his new friend (probably an understatement of the word) from being forced to cling onto the edges of society. "We'll train him and see if he survives it. If he does, we'll take him." He smiled at the Commander; the offer was better than anything he could have hoped for.

There had to be a catch. "What do I need to do?" He asked, his small smile now gone from his face.

"He'll be your partner for your next mission. You'll be responsible for his well being and the mission as the whole. If the mission fails or something happens to Mr. Anderson, you'll be released from the agency and your benefits will be terminated."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Benefits?" He asked. He was missing something, wasn't he?

The Commander shrugged. "You know. Priority with government business like the post office or the DMV-"

"I did not get priority at the DMV." He interjected, his eyes narrowed, thinking of the last time he was at the building that probably had a portal to hell in the supply closet and devils working the counters.

"That was probably before two months ago, wasn't it?" He asked; a small smirk on his face.

Kurt rolled his eyes. Of course it'd only apply to current, active agents. Murphy's Law and whatnot.

"We'll call you in a few days time. Don't expect to see Anderson anytime soon." The Commander said, his serious manner returning to his face. "We'll keep him for a while."

"How will you contact me? Am I going back to Lima or New York?"

"New York. How we'll contact you is our little secret."

**Making sure you got everything:  
- Kurt's in the CIA and has been for years. He was trained in an organization that went by the codeword Scouts.  
- He rescued Blaine in Black Ties and White Shirts and started to see him. Seeing people from a mission that are not agents once a mission is completed is against the rules.  
- Kurt's job now depends on Blaine and his mission going smoothly.  
**


	2. Chapter 1

They didn't tell him exactly how long they'd refrain from contacting him about his new mission, so he was forced to go back to 'normal'. Going back to his mundane life as a civilian without any contact at all with Blaine Anderson was one of the hardest transitions he remembered making. It apparently affected him more than he anticipated as when he went out to meet his friend for coffee, his behaviour was questioned. He had no good excuse, so all he did was shrug and say "I'm alright" in a slightly defeated tone, convincing no one of his well being.

Not only that, but the days were starting to become monotonous. Was it Tuesday? Or Sunday? Had it not been for his teachers constantly noting his class of an assignment coming up in x-many days, he'd probably just be drifting. It was quite the miracle he even got to class, really.

But at his current count, today was the weekend, a Sunday to be precise, and he was tired of being stuck in the funk he found himself in and wanted to get out of it. So he decided to go down to Broadway and explore- maybe a show had open seats that he could snag. Musicals always made him happy- ever since he was little. Maybe he could see _Wicked._ He loved that show, and fondly remembered the time that he and Rachel Berry sang _For Good_ in the Gershwin theatre back in their junior year of high school when they were in New York for Nationals.

He fixed the blue tie he wore before leaving the apartment and into the cold windy New York street. Broadway was much too far for him to walk to so he flung out his arm to hail a cab. He didn't exactly expect it to take too long to get one to pick him up- his jacket, blue in one light and purple in the other, got many heads to turn in his direction while he walked.

Sure enough, a minute later, the iconic yellow taxi pulled up in front of him. Kurt pulled open the door and slipped inside, the heat blasting out of the vents warming his face instantly. His hands? A little slower.

"37th Street and 5th Avenue, please." He said, running his ands back and forth in front of his mouth, trying to heat them up.

There was no answer from the driver, but the car started moving anyway, so he paid it little mind. Kurt leaned his head back against the headrest and thought about that day in the Gershwin theatre. Sure, they had entered illegally, but the security guard was the nicest man he'd ever met and just let them in.

Both he and Rachel nailed their NYADA auditions, but Kurt just couldn't afford it. He got all the scholarships he applied for, but it wasn't enough. For a while, he was upset about it, as Rachel was ecstatic about her future alma mater. After a bit of time though, with some major consoling from Mercedes, he decided that he'd make a better impact in the world of fashion than in theatre.

It wasn't his proudest moment, realizing that he had to give up this thing he had been working towards. But he was content with it now, especially as the CIA was acting on their promise to employ him.

Even if his future employment depended on this guy he had to rescue a few months ago.

He looked out the window and watched the buildings pass by, slowly but faster than he would have thought for a Sunday morning. It wasn't an absurd happenstance, but it was a bit unusual. The word 'unusual' stuck in his head as they turned a corner and headed in the, rather clearly, opposite direction. He looked up to the front of the cab to see the driver, a man in a black suit and a white shirt, looking back at him through the rear view mirror, a grin on his face.

"It took you long enough, Hummel."

Kurt let out a rather loud groan and threw his head back against the headrest in mild frustration. It wasn't that he wasn't happy the driver picked him up, as it meant he could see Blaine again sometimes soon and he could start getting paid as well, but he was looking forward to that play. "So I take it Blaine's done?" He asked in a slightly depressed tone, looking out the window.

"Of course. He's in shape, which takes out half of the problem usually faced with new recruits. It takes closer to two months for those who are starting from scratch. He managed it in three weeks." So that's how long it had been. "We're glad we don't have to get you up to speed though, your time at the gym will do well."

He looked at the driver expectedly. "You followed me?"

The man threw his head back in laughter. "We're the CIA. We follow everyone." He sighed slightly- as absurd as it was, he knew it to be true.

However, as nice as the driver was, Kurt couldn't manage to warm up to him properly. The whole ride to the New York office was filled with chill conversation and dry laughter. When they finally got their destination, he was more than happy to leave the cab and disregard the man's plans or itinerary. In fact, he was more than happy just to walk around the main lobby and explore the place. He hadn't been in this building in ages, so he was more than happy to just wander, trying to blend in, or even get lost. His last visit here was only about one afternoon and then after his last mission, he spent most of his time in the D.C. building.

"Hummel!" The Commander's voice rang in his ears. It was unforgettable; the gruff sounds that the man produced while giving orders to dozens of agents. "Nice jacket."

Kurt didn't even crack a smile. The one time he truly just wanted to wander around, find his friend, he was pulled into a talk with boss. "Thank you, sir." He said, putting on a fake smile and turning around to face the man.

He was wearing a grey suit, which fit his personality much better than any black and white suit the cooperation could ever produce. "Come to my office. I've been waiting for you. Let's talk." Without another word, another glance, the Commander turned on his heel and started walking down the halls. With an almost defeated sigh, he dragged his feet, following the man through a series of semi-familiar corridors.

When the office appeared at the end of the hall, Kurt knew that it would always bring him a thought of despair. Not that the Commander was a bad man, but no good could come from, or to, anyone sitting on the other side of the Commander's desk. However, when they entered, the dreaded desk and the chair he was destined to sit in were blocked from his view as his head was shoved into a mess of black hair.

Strong arms encompassed him, pulling him close to a rock hard chest and into a hug. "God I've missed you so much." Blaine's hot breath tickled his ear, as Kurt wrapped his arms around the other boy, holding him tight. He ran his hands up and down Blaine's back, feeling the newly formed muscles that ran up and down.

"I've missed you too." Kurt said, refusing to be the one to break the hug. He had gone far too long without seeing Blaine. If he wasn't going to let go anytime soon, Kurt wasn't exactly going to complain.

But the Commander minded. He cleared his throat and took a seat behind the desk. "Please seat down and let's get started. I need you both to be out of here in a matter of hours. There will be time to chit chat then."

They didn't pull apart right away as Blaine ran his hand down the length of his arm before interweaving their fingers and holding onto his hand tightly. Just the feeling of the boy's skin against his own made Kurt's hair stand on end in the best way, making a small smile appear on the corners of his lips. Blaine reached over to the wall and pulled over a second chair, his arm muscles bulging slightly as he moved the decently sized chair over next to the one already set up singlehandedly.

He was dressed in biking shorts and a plain white v-neck t-shirt, as if he was just plucked from training and planted in the office. Something told him that wasn't exactly far from the truth.

When the two chairs were as close to each other as physics would allow, they both sat down, their hands still intertwined. For a moment the Commander stared at their hands, refusing to go on before they separated, as if having a possible relationship was a crime.

But Kurt knew it was dangerous. They had talked about it when he was going through training. Granted, it was so long ago and they were young so it barely fazed them at the time, but they were lectured nonetheless. They were lectured against being in a relationship and working at the same time, as it could create an unnecessary emotional attachment to something that could create a potential moment's hesitance and then cause something else to go wrong. There were a lot of ifs, but as much as he hated it, it made logical sense.

"Right. Now, we've gotten word that there is some illegal smuggling on the Florida coast. We want you two to go down, investigate and apprehend those involved." The Commander's voice had that authoritative air about it again- they weren't guests (as if they ever were), they were now agents. "We'll give you some gadgets to help you and some general coordinates, but we don't have much to go on other than that." He said.

Kurt eyed his new partner curiously to see how he was taking this news. Blaine sat stone-faced, nodding occasionally to the Commander's voice. It would be nice to go to Florida with him. Even if they get nowhere with the case, the vacation with the other boy could be rather enjoyable. By the look of Blaine's arms earlier, Kurt would be ensured, at the very least, a good view.

"I'm game." The boy's voice took him out of his daydream, causing him to look over to the well toned body beside him. Kurt nodded. He didn't really have a choice whether he wanted to go or not, in the long run. He wanted to protect his new job, after all.

Not that he'd decline a free trip to Florida.

"Perfect." The Commander smiled, giving Kurt a bad feeling in his stomach before looking at the two of them. "I'll send word to special tech, you'll head over there once you two change into something more... professional."

A small grin appeared on Kurt's face as he looked into his lap. So what if their attire wasn't exactly CIA-material? They were going undercover. The last thing they needed was to walk around Florida in black suits. Lima, Ohio in autumn was one thing- in Florida, no matter what the season, will be rather warm.

Without another word, the Commander looked down at his paperwork and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Blaine methodologically got up out of the chair and went to the door. Kurt bit his lip as he quickly followed suit. Did three weeks of hard core military training change him? He was broken going into the program and was cut off from his one source of therapy- anything could happen.

No.

He was the same boy that Kurt rescued from that building, the same boy that he spent weeks with after the fact, talking with and getting to know. A cold mechanical being wouldn't have taken him into a giant embrace at first sight and refused to let go. He just had different masks now, a different role to play in front of certain people.

Blaine could take it off whenever he wanted, like in the hall alone with Kurt, and do what he wanted, like slip his hand into Kurt's as they walked to, what Kurt would forever call the wardrobe department of the CIA. It was actually called the Locker Room, but the performer in him couldn't stay away from the term 'wardrobe'. Blaine gripped Kurt's hand a little harder as they travelled down the bland hallway.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, looking over at him. "You have a funny look on your face."

Kurt smiled fondly at his words and nodded. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just thinking." He said. It was a horrible excuse, but Blaine didn't really push it, letting the two of them walk in silence for a little. "How are you though? How was training?" He didn't know how different Blaine's training was from his own, but he couldn't imagine it was the same. Exercises for 8 year olds weren't the same for 20 year olds.

A small chuckle escaped Blaine's smirked lips. "Did you know on the first day, they say that only 1 in 20 of the recruits will make it through training?" Kurt shook his head- he knew the recruit class was small anyway, probably about 60 people. "So many people dropped out after the first few days. I met this guy, Dustin, who left about a week and a half in. He helped me through the beginning."

He knew what the other boy was talking about- the emotional toll that was still being paid since the warehouse. It had been two months, but you don't get over stuff like that too fast. The two of them had made amazing progress, alone in their apartments watching movies, but training probably halted whatever advancement Blaine tried on his own.

"I'm proud of you for making it, though. The odds were against you."

Blaine looked over, his bushy eyebrows surrounding his brightly lit eyes. "I thought of you." He admitted quietly. Kurt tried to hide the embarrassed and slightly flattered look on his face. "They said you said I could do it. I believe in you, Kurt."

Kurt was speechless, but luckily for him, he wasn't speechless for long. They reached Wardrobe and dropped their entwined hands, for appearances' sake. They both had to wear the mask, no matter how good the boy's rough hands felt in his. They'd just have to take each moment they had and savour it. The rarest moments, he heard, were always the sweetest.

Luckily for him, the agents behind the counter had their clothes picked out for them and it wasn't a black suit with a white shirt. Either they had the same logic about the weather that Kurt had, or they had a sense of style and thought that a suit in Florida screamed suspicious.

Instead, Kurt was dressed in blue button down shirt with a grey vest and pants. He decided to roll up the sleeves of the shirt to his elbows as he looked in the mirror. He certainly didn't look like a CIA agent, which was a good thing, but he couldn't think of what back story the Commander thought up for them.

He left the dressing room to see Blaine waiting for him in a chair. He was wearing a red collar shirt with a brown sweater over it with a pair of jeans. He seemed a little uncomfortable as he stood up. "What's wrong?" Kurt asked. "You look good."

Blaine turned to the mirror and looked at his reflection and tilted his head slightly. "It needs a bow tie." He said, rubbing his neck. The shirt wasn't buttoned all the way, so he couldn't think of why he thought a bow tie would bring it all together.

"A bow tie?" Kurt repeated skeptically.

The other boy put his hands in his pockets, letting his thumbs ride the edge, and shrugged a little. "Bow ties are cool."

Kurt laughed a little and pulled Blaine's arm, tugging the boy out of the Wardrobe and down the hall towards the special weaponry. It was a short trip, so Kurt merely leaned into Blaine as they walked. They only encountered one or two people in suits on their journey but they didn't bother putting on the masks for them.

They didn't seem to mind, so neither did the boys.

Special weaponry wasn't as amazing as it sounded, if you didn't work there. Kurt knew a little bit of the department, but it was all surface knowledge- things any agent knew. Since most of the weapon development was done behind closed doors, the special weaponry lobby was fairly plain, revealing nothing about upcoming discoveries.

Because of this, Kurt had to blink a few times as they entered the room, white paint glistening in the florescent lighting. There were no chairs, only a tan counter with a doorway behind it. There were no video cameras that he could detect and no window on the door to see into or out of. He realized why the Commander sent word ahead of their arrival- they wouldn't be able to tell otherwise.

"Do we do something?" Blaine whispered to Kurt, looking around.

While he understood why the other boy asked him what to do, he had no idea- the last time he was given gadgets, he was on an airplane to Lima, Ohio. Not exactly the CIA headquarters. "Hello?" He called out, walking up to the counter.

A compartment quickly opened on the top of the tan counter, flipping over and revealing a metal slate with a few enticing gadgets laying on top. A tile in the ceiling hissed opened and a snakelike tube came down, inspecting their faces before quickly retreating back, as if it never came out of its hiding place. Kurt only managed a half glance at Blaine to see if he knew what was going on before the door behind the counter opened.

A man in a lab coat came out and stood at the counter, his hands behind his back and his brown eyes inspecting the two boys in front of him. "Well?" The man's voice was impatient. "What are you waiting for? Let's get started."

He seemed to be in quite a rush, something that Kurt couldn't explain. Maybe the man was annoyed that he had to deal with the two boys, disrupting his work. He looked towards the lab coat, trying to spot any identifying badge that could be clipped on the breast pocket, or even sewn in. But there was nothing.

"The Commander told you we were coming?" Blaine asked, stepping forward, trying to act as if he knew what he was doing.

It was cute.

The man nodded. "Of course. That and we saw." He said, looking down at the spread of gadgets in front of him. That must have been the cable that came from the ceiling. It must have held a video camera. "Now pay attention, as I'll say this only once. I have things to do and you have places to go so why should we drag out this meeting?"

The two boys stepped up to the counter and looked at the small spread in front of them.

"We have your basic laser, goes about 50 feet, lethal at short range but nothing more than that. The pen and pill container go hand in hand. The pen shoots out a hook and has an end that's connected to the pill container." When each device was mentioned, the boys were given their own to carry on them for the mission. "That will reel in the hook letting you scale buildings. It can self retract, however it does have w eight limit so Blaine, please don't try this little trick."

Kurt looked up and smirked at Blaine. It was clear why the man called him out specifically for his weight. Not that Blaine was fat, heavens no, but he was more muscular. Clearly while he was in training, he focused on body building while Kurt always focused on cardio.

"For communications this round we have a simple, vintage Nokia phone." The man turned them both over in his hands before giving them to the boys. Kurt inspected it briefly, the grey casing yielding no clues to what made it special. It wasn't even a flip phone. And by the looks of it- it wasn't a colour screen either- black text on a neon green backlit background.

Old school.

To his surprise, Blaine started laughing, looking at the phone. He looked over and stared at the muscular boy curiously. "So this way it won't cop out on us, right?"

His comment made Kurt smile. Everyone knew, even slightly socially inept people like Kurt, that Nokias were famous for being able to withstand a beating. According to internet-lore, only Chuck Norris could destroy a Nokia phone. "Well, yes, that's the idea." The man smirked, putting his hands into his lab coat pockets. "Except for if you dial 999 followed by the pound sign."

He looked up at the man. "What happens then?" He asked.

"It explodes." The man was oddly cheery for such a bleak concept. Maybe he was happy that they were nearly done and he could go back to his work. "Don't worry about pocket dialling- it has a dial lock set to a default 1-2-3-4. You can change it if you want, but I don't think anyone's going to try to swipe those phones."

The boys nodded and pocketed the various tools. Kurt had to admit that he was a bit disappointed leaving without any sort of blatant weapon. Even the laser wasn't lethal past a good five feet, from what the man said. It seemed less lightsaber and more lightsaber-butter-knife.

But it didn't matter, not really. It'd probably only serve the purpose of opening doors and cutting things. That was fine. Even if a pocket knife could have produced the same results.

They probably just wanted to show off.

"The Commander says you're due to be at the hanger in 5 minutes. I'd hurry if I were you." The two boys exchanged a look before glancing back towards the man. But he had vanished, along with the gadgets on the counter top. Probably back into the back room to work on more experiments.

Scientists were like that.

They left special weaponry and walked down the hall in silence. Kurt switched between looking at his feet and looking at anything but Blaine. He didn't know why he was avoiding the boy's eye, after all, they were about to have an amazing vacation together, even if it was _technically_ work...

"I hope it's sunny." Blaine's voice interrupted Kurt's mundane thoughts.

He smiled at the other boy and nodded. "It's Florida. I'm sure the weather will be great. After all, it's getting tolerable up here. Imagine what down there must feel like." He said, a genuine smile starting to break though.

Maybe they could take off for a few hours and just relax on the beach when they first get there. Or maybe take an actual vacation once their job was done. After a long exhausting mission, a Florida vacation on the beach would be an ideal thing.

The thought of them both lying on the beach under the hot Floridian sunbeams caused a smile to form on Kurt's face. He grabbed Blaine's hand and started pulling him down the hall, a devilish hint appearing in his eyes. "Come on, I can't wait to get started."


	3. Chapter 2

The flight didn't take long at all. It was a good three or four hours from New York to Florida, but the time passed quickly with Blaine sitting next to him, laughing at his jokes and enjoying each other's company.

When they landed and got in the car to take them to their hotel (on the beach!), they put on their 'professional faces' and sat on opposite ends of the back seat, talking to the driver politely. It was the normal sort of chitchat conversation- talk about the warm weather, the driver (a native to the area) was happy for the arrival of spring.

He was a very nice man who gave them a brief tour of the town as they drove through it. Kurt stopped talking to record their path in his memory. While it wasn't too hard to navigate the small city outside of Miami, it would be overall easier to know where you're going than to figure it out as you're going there.

By the time they reached the hotel, the sun was setting and most of the beaches were starting to empty, the patrons going home or changing to go out to clubs. As they unpacked their fairly light suitcases in their hotel room, they decided no productivity could be done tonight.

"No one's around. The information the Commander gave us was a shop on the pier." Blaine reasoned to Kurt, who was slightly more inclined to go out looking for clues before it got dark. "We have a better chance just getting adjusted to the new climate and then going out tomorrow."

Kurt gave a slightly overdramatic sigh. "But we might lose track of..." He reached into his pocket to take out a small piece of paper and read of the name printed on it. "... Shawn Tyrik."

The other boy closed his suitcase and moved over to Kurt, taking the slip out of his hand. "There is a time and place for everything." His hand moved and slipped into Kurt's pocket, putting the paper back. "Tonight, we have a vacation." Blaine whispered; his mouth just millimetres away from Kurt's.

His heart pounded in his chest as he leaned in and brought his lips to Blaine's. They hadn't had a proper kiss before, just a forehead or a cheek here and there, but it was everything that he had expected it would be.

Blaine's right hand pressed slightly against his thigh while his left slipped into Kurt's back pocket. Kurt's pulse raced as he raised his hands and put them around Blaine's neck, pulling the other boy closer. He could feel Blaine's lips turning up into a smile right before they pulled apart. Not that they put much distance between the two of them, but Kurt was able to catch his breath.

"I'm starting to like this vacation." He whispered against Blaine's lips.

They leaned in and brought their lips together once more, a smile creeping onto Kurt's face. However, a second or so later, the Nokia on the bed started to ring. Only a handful of people had the number to set that off.

It was important.

Kurt sighed and leaned his forehead against Blaine's. "I swear- this job's the biggest cockblock ever." The other boy said with a small smirk, removing his hands from Kurt's pockets.

He walked over to the small device blasting a rather annoying sequence of high pitched tones and answered it. "Hummel."

"It's the Commander." Kurt looked over to Blaine who was walking around and starting to unpack both bags. "I know you guys were planning on just starting the mission tomorrow morning, but we have a lead on where the group is meeting for dinner and we'd like you two to join them."

Kurt raised an eyebrow as he lay back on the bed. Just because they had to go out later didn't mean that he didn't get to relax at the moment. "Join them, sir?" He asked. It was a strange request.

"Well, one of you anyway. Blaine will pose as a potential buyer. You'll have to watch from a distance. We sent word ahead and they'll be expecting you. We're sending the address to you two now."

Blaine's phone beeped, as if it received a text message. Clearly the phones weren't as primitive as they looked. He didn't think these old models could get text messages- they weren't even flip phones.

"Yessir. We're on it."

"Good luck." There was a _click_ and the call ended. Kurt rolled on his side and glanced at Blaine who was looking at the address on the screen of his phone.

"We'll vacation some other time. Promise." Kurt said, looking at the slight frown on the other boy's face.

Blaine turned the phone towards Kurt as he read the words out to him. "Dress business casual." He shook his head. "They really like seeing us in a suit, don't they?"

He laughed slightly at his friend's words. "I suppose. But they did say business casual. We can leave the blazers and ties in the room." He smirked.

Slowly, they changed into dress shirts and slacks, straightening their hair before leaving the room and hailing a taxi to take them to the address they scribbled onto a piece of paper.

When the cab stopped, they were by the harbour, outside a bar that had clearly been there for ages. Blaine paid the driver and they stepped out of the car into the salty air. "It's a nice place." Kurt said a little unenthusiastically.

"I hope they didn't mean business casual sarcastically." Blaine said. That wouldn't have happened though. Kurt wasn't sure that the Commander had a sense of humour. Lest one that could get them in trouble on a mission and jeopardize the CIA's reputation.

They exchanged a slightly nervous look before entering the run down bar. Smoke hung over their heads and Kurt was almost surprised that people weren't on their hands and knees crawling to the exit. Of course, the fact that the smoke smelled like tobacco and not a raging fire probably explained everyone's calm attitudes.

It took a few minutes of looking through the greyed room to spot a group of men sitting at a round booth talking rather quietly, their heads together. "That must be them." Kurt said, nodding slightly in that direction.

Blaine let out a heavy, almost nervous breath. "Right." He said quietly. "Go grab a drink. I'll be back in a bit."

Kurt turned and walked over to the bar in almost a dazed state. He could feel his partner's nerves from across the room as Kurt watched him sit down and start chatting, his head now joining the half dozen or so in a huddle. He ordered a house special, which turned out to be a Hypnotiq and Sprite, from the bartender as he settled himself on a barstool.

He was in the perfect position that he could see the table clearly and get there quickly if need be. But as he sipped from his glass, it was clear Blaine was handling the situation well. The group of men were laughing and enjoying themselves. Or so it'd seem.

About thirty five minutes later, Kurt's drink was mostly gone and Blaine was walking back towards him. The alcohol didn't completely distort his thought process, so he still knew that meeting with Blaine in the bar was a poor decision. The men might notice them talking and take action... of some type. Kurt quickly shook his head (maybe a bit too quickly, as he got a little dizzy) and jerked it towards the door.

Thankfully, Blaine wasn't stupid either and picked up the hint. Kurt waited about ten minutes, down the rest of the drink, slapped a bill onto the counter and left the bar.

Outside, the boy was sitting on a cement barrier, swinging his feet and looking just a little paranoid at his surroundings. At the sight of Kurt, he jumped off his perch and joined him in walking down the street. They'd have to find a cab somehow, or just walk their way back to the hotel.

"So... you guys seemed to have a good time. Did we get any information on them?" Kurt asked, interweaving their hands. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol starting to get to him or the need to feel protected, but he felt better once he felt Blaine grip his hand back.

The other boy laughed and nodded. "Of course. You don't talk for forty minutes and get nothing from them." They turned a corner and started walking back to the hotel. It wouldn't be too bad of a walk, and Kurt figured that by the time they got back to their room, whatever effects the alcohol had would wear off by then. "Did you unwind a little at the bar?"

Blaine's voice brought his mind back to the here and now. He had been daydreaming. "Yeah, I guess. I got a drink and was just waiting around."

"Did you pick up any conversations that might be useful?"

"It was a bar, Blaine." Kurt sighed. "I couldn't make out the difference between my thoughts and their words." He said, struggling not to roll his eyes. Despite his mild rudeness, he did have a point, Kurt reaffirmed himself. The bar was so loud that even Blaine's crowd had to lean their heads together to be heard.

The other boy nodded and they fell into a silence as they walked. After a few minutes, he spoke up, "Did you want to talk about what I found out now or wait until we got back to the room?"

Part of him wanted to start talking now. They hadn't cleared the room yet for bugs and out in the middle of nowhere was a perfect place to not be overheard. Especially the area they were in. But the other part of him had a raging headache that didn't want to go away.

"Now." He decided. They could sweep the room later and talk about it again later. Now the information was still fresh in Blaine's head and nothing would be forgotten in reporting his findings.

Blaine nodded and took a moment to collect his thoughts before starting. "Alright. So I was posing as a buyer. I needed about a pound of their goods. They gave me an address where I'll have to meet them tomorrow night after sunset to get it. So we'll have to work fast."

Kurt gave an exasperated sigh. "No day off tomorrow?"

A soft smile emerged from the other boy's face as he put one arm around Kurt as they walked. "So no, you should probably get a good night's rest tonight. Maybe drink a good chunk of the hotel's water supply, too." He laughed. "You must have had a strong drink for your breath to smell that bad."

"I'm not drunk!" Kurt said, maybe a little defensively.

"Then why did you stumble back there?"

"... the ground jumped out at me." Blaine smiled, his dimples shining on his cheeks and his hazel eyes sparkling, even in the dim light. "Okay, so maybe I'm a little tipsy." Kurt admitted. "But what can I say? I'm a lightweight. Plus, I knew I'd have an amazing bodyguard for the walk home." He smiled sloppily to the other boy.

"Flattery will only get you so far when you're under an influence." Blaine said, pulling Kurt closer into his side. Warm lips pressed against his temple and his eyes looked up, trying to see the other boy in his peripheral vision. "But right now we're going back to the room and letting you sleep this off."

The hotel appeared on the horizon as they walked. "You're not fun, Blaine." Kurt said disappointingly. He felt Blaine's hand leave Kurt's to reach into his pant pocket and take out the hotel key.

What he said did not seem to affect the other boy. "You're no fun when you're intoxicated. You get hands-y." Kurt caught himself from reaching forward to grab Blaine's hand and put his own back to his pocket. The remark put him off, however, and the two finished the walk back to the room in silence.

The quiet continued while they changed clothes and crawled under the bed covers. Kurt noticed how they didn't have that scratchy feeling that he normally felt in sheets at random hotels.

He felt his eyelids getting heavy when he felt strong arms encompass him. Blaine moved closer and held Kurt against his body.

Kurt leaned back into the other boy and turned his head to Blaine's general direction. "Thank you." He whispered.

Warm lips tickled his left ear. "For what?"

"Coming along."

"It was a mission. The Commander assigned it."

"Yeah, but you chose to come with me."

"Well, seeing as you rescued me once, I figured it's the least I can do." Blaine's soft chuckle passed over his cheek. "Plus, I needed a vacation from conditioning and boot camp. Why not spend a few days free of charge with you?"

Kurt rolled over and looked into Blaine's shining eyes. There was only a moment's hesitation before their lips crashed against each other.

It was a few hours until both boys went to sleep.

"Come on, Kurt!"

Blaine's voice was filled with urgency as they ran down the boardwalk. The sun was starting to set as the two of them raced across the wooden planks of the pier. They were running a little late for the meeting with the man they only knew as 'The Gardener'.

The meeting had been set up the previous night at the bar, so it was debatable as to whether it would actually be carried out, but if it was going to be, they wanted to get there early. Not only because being on time for a meeting with someone was being good manners, but they wanted to get Kurt in a good position to observe the meeting.

Sure, Blaine was wearing a microphone, but finding a good spot for visual contact was equally important.

However, they were running late so finding Kurt that perfect spot might be compromised. A large yacht appeared as they turned a corner. The two of them skidded to a halt as Blaine turned towards him and took him by the shoulders. "Find a place to watch, I'll be back." He said rather quickly. With that, he leaned in, kissed Kurt on the lips and left, rather in a hurry.

It left the boy standing, more or less shocked, on the pier. But he listened and walked down the nearest alleyway between shops. He found a gutter, rubbed his hands together, as if to give them warning and started to climb. The metal was rough and uncomfortable against his soft skin as he gripped onto the gutter, holding on tight. He slowly moved vertically, scaling the side of the building trying his best to avoid looking down and seeing the increasingly dangerous fall.

He took to counting the stories as he passed them.

First floor.

Second floor.

At the third floor, he let his eyes slip down below his chest.

It was higher than he thought it would be, or at least, it seemed higher than it actually was. He moved to adjust his feet and felt as the brick below it gave out. Kurt watched as the red material shattered on impact on the ground. Once securing his foot, he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the gutter, trying to calm down. His fingers were screaming in pain and if he knew that if he didn't make it up the remaining two stories, he'd end up just like the brick.

So with that bitter thought, he took another deep breath and started climbing once more, refusing to look down. It'd be better in the long run anyway. He wouldn't have to have nightmares about gutters after this.

When he reached the roof, it wasn't a moment too soon as he pulled himself over the ledge and laid flat on his back, letting his limbs rest for a few moments. It wasn't like he was too out of shape, he just disliked heights.

Or well, heights where a slip could mean his death. He heard death shortened your life expectancy and he wanted to stick around with Blaine for as long as he could.

He knew he spent too much time on the ground, so he got up and went to the opposite side of the roof, pulling out a thin pair of binoculars from under his shirt and bringing them to his eyes.

Blaine wasn't too hard to spot in his light blue shirt, even if it was a little bright. Kurt had picked it out- it would be the easiest colour to see when the sun started to set and he would be straining his eyes to pick out the people on the dock.

The men on board started talking and Blaine was causally acting as if he knew the men all his life- a skill that the boy was an expert in. He just wished that he could hear what they were chattering about. Then it hit him- the earpiece in his pocket.

He quickly dug into his shorts and pulled out the small metallic device designed to loop over his ear. He pressed the button, activating it, and placed it in his right ear, returning to the scene.

"So, you have the stuff, right?" Blaine asked, looking around at the empty dock around them.

Kurt saw the man roll his eyes. "Do you think we were stupid enough to just bring it out on the public dock?" The boy said nothing. Smart boy. "No. It's on our yacht. I hope you brought your sea legs."

Apparently that didn't settle well for Blaine, nor did it go over with Kurt. "You said nothing about a ship." Blaine echoed Kurt's thought to the man he assumed was the Gardener.

"Do you want the goods or not?"

The question hung in the air as Blaine made the decision. Kurt had no way to talk to him, so it was completely up to the younger boy. Were they going to nix the mission and try again another day? Or were they going to play a giant, risky game of improv?

Kurt watched as the other boy nodded and was flanked by two older men who started walking to the pier. The Gardener walked in the middle with Blaine in silence.

"Shit." There was nothing left for Kurt to say, only to watch as his friend disappeared from view and below deck of a nearby boat. A minute later, two different men came up to the main deck and stood by the rope bridge that connected the ship to the pier.

The worst part, Kurt established in his head, was that the connection between him and Blaine had gotten static-y at best. He barely could make out the conversation, forcing him to put the earpiece back into his pocket.

The only thing he knew now was that he needed to get to Blaine, or at a spy-able distance. He needed eye contact. Especially in such a dangerous position. If this man was such a threat that the CIA had to send agents to apprehend him, sending Blaine in, weaponless, was rather stupid of him.

Of course, they didn't have to be weaponless. They had just left in such a hurry to get here on time, they left their mildly useless gadgets in their hotel room. Kurt wished he had remembered the pen and film case- it would have made the scaling of the building much easier.

He got to his feet and walked to an air conditioning vent, overlooking the surrounding rooftops, looking for something that'd help him.

There was nothing.

He wondered if a god was plotting against him.

The worst part was that he could only think of one thing to do. With that bitter thought, he broke into a run and started jumping across the roofs, landing smoothly each time. After the third building, he lept off towards the back of the roof, grabbing onto a lamppost that lined the street and sliding down the smooth surface. When the choices were a lamppost or a gutter, always choose the lamppost. Always choose the lamppost.

Kurt stuck to the shadows as he ran down the alley towards the pier. When he reached the street, he ducked behind a dumpster and eyed the men at the rope bridge. They were at a decent distance, thanks to the buildings that he jumped over, but he knew that Kurt could still be seen by them. It was just peripheral vision.

A crowd passed, heading towards the entertainment part of the boardwalk. Kurt slipped into a group and walked with them until he could easily jump over a railing, letting himself fall into the sea.


	4. Chapter 3

Despite the warm weather outside, the ocean was icy cold, sending shivers up and down his spine. He knew he had caused a commotion with the splash so instead of directly coming up for air; he pushed his body forward through the frigid water. It was almost painful to stay underwater, not because of the lack of air, but because of the cold water.

Kurt stayed underwater for as long as he could before pushing his body above the waterline and taking as much air as his deflated lungs could take in. A buoy floated a few yards from him, prompting him to swim behind it, hide and take his bearings.

People on the pier didn't seem to take too much notice to the boy jumping into the ocean, much to his surprise, and he was far enough from the boat that he didn't think he caught their attention. It was safe to go forward- as far as he could tell.

So, pushing off of the buoy, he started to swim towards the boat, occasionally ducking underwater to avoid potentially prying eyes of tourists and sailors on break. He didn't think anyone was out looking for a boy swimming by a pier, but one could never be too careful.

Finally, he came up to the fibreglass hull of the yacht, letting his hands gently press up against it to help himself glide through the water. A few feet to his left was a small round window that let him see into the ship. Kurt slowly moved until he was right under the window, got his feet on some protruding screws, and hoisted himself up so he could see into the small circle of glass.

Inside was Blaine, talking to the Gardener with two more bodyguards behind him. Suddenly, something seemed to change. Blaine's demeanour became anxious, he seemed to be stuttering. The Gardener and his men moved closer to the boy. As they neared him, his stance became defensive and his hands rose for attack.

The bodyguards leapt at the boy and Kurt turned away from the window. Blaine was in trouble and Kurt needed to get in there. There was a thud against the fibreglass which he leaned against and he knew a body was flung against the wall.

He didn't dare turn toward the window to see if it was Blaine. If it was his partner, his friend... whatever Blaine was to him, and he was hurt, he would never be able to forgive himself.

With a large breath, he dove under the ship, swam under the hull and resurfaced under the rope bridge. He knew that right on the deck above him were two more bodyguards who could cause just as much damage as the ones in the room with Blaine.

He pulled his feet up against the hull and pushed up, shooting out of the water. Kurt grabbed the bottom of the bridge and used it to flip over, landing on the wooden planks in an attack position. Instantly, the guards took their fighting stance and one even swung his leg towards Kurt.

Primal defence instinct took him over, his torso leaning backward and watching the man's foot come inches from his nose before Kurt was aware of it. He flipped his body and landed on his left hand, swinging his right foot out hard, grinning when he felt the hard connection of the other man's ankle.

Kurt landed on his knees and reached to the man who he tripped. He grabbed the man's shirt and swung him around his body, letting go only when the centrifugal force led him under the rope bridge's handles and into the cold water. Instantly he was on his feet, his hands going up to his face to prevent a punch from the remaining bodyguard.

The man swung his leg out, prompting Kurt to grab onto the boat's ledge, push himself and deliver a kick towards the man's head. He ducked right on time, however, meaning that all he accomplished was jumping over the man and landing smoothly on the main deck.

With each punch he threw, he thought about the training that Blaine had gone through and he had done so many years. Left hook. Right hook. Uppercut. Haymaker.

It didn't matter. The man blocked them with ease, each time delivering a punch with deadly force in return. Kurt's feet were in constant motion as he tried to keep his balance and throw off his opponent's. It didn't help that the whole time the man was keeping the offensive, pushing Kurt farther towards the front of the ship.

A soft _clang_ caught his attention so he risked a moment to look at his feet. His right foot had knocked into a metal pipe which was slowly spinning to a stop. He gave the man a split second look before flipping the pole up with his foot, catching it and swinging it with all his strength.

There was a dull thud when the pipe made contact with the man's head before he fell to the deck like a ragdoll, unconscious. Kurt stayed in the attack position for a minute before he was sure that no one was coming out to investigate.

He looked down at the man at his feet. "Sorry." He said quietly. He reached down, grabbed the man's hands and moved him across the deck before throwing an abandoned tarp over him. There was a loud crash somewhere below deck, a hit with enough force to slightly rock the boat, and Kurt took off, rushing down a flight of stairs that led below deck.

He stopped about halfway down the stairs as he took in the sight below him. Blaine was in a heap on the ground on top of a broken table surrounded by a bunch of burly men in sport coats. The Gardener was off to the side, his arms crossed, proudly surveying the scene in front of him.

"Now look, I don't have all day. I just want to know who you're working for." The Gardener's voice was strangely high pitched.

All Blaine did was groan- Kurt could tell he was nearing unconsciousness. "He wouldn't tell you even if you hadn't beaten him up." Kurt said loudly. He jumped over the railing and landed on the Gardener's shoulders, with slightly less grace than her normally had. The man struggled to shake him off, causing him to generate an iron grip on the man's previously pristine white shirt.

The Gardener let out an anguished cry as Kurt almost lost his balance and grabbed the man's hair to regain stability. "Don't just stand there! Shoot him!" He shouted to the men in the room.

Shooting? Sure enough, when Kurt looked at the men who were around Blaine, a few started to pull out handguns. "Okay. I didn't sign up for this." Kurt grunted. He pushed the Gardener forwards, propelling him backwards to let him flip in the air and land rather elegantly on the ground.

He ran towards the other end of the room, jumping over a table and pulling it down to use it as a shield. His ears finally registered the sounds of the ricocheting bullets bouncing off the ceiling and walls. With each contact of bullet-to-ship, Kurt flinched, trying to regain a normal heart rate. He saw a stack of burlap bags a few feet away.

It must have been a moment of pure desperation that made Kurt lean forward and grab two of the large sacks. He jumped up, exposing himself to the men whose guns, he realized, could easily make him Swiss cheese... or worse. With his strong arm, he chucked a sack at a few of the men in hopes to distract them.

All the times his father tried to get him into baseball and all the times he declined to play came back to him a moment of karma and regret. The bag that he threw fell three feet short of his target. The CIA training helped him get more agile and work on skills he didn't know he could possibly have, but they didn't exactly train on the ones that he was supposed to have learned.

The bags burst open and a green haze lifted into the air. A green-brown powder seemed to spill from the slight opening that the force of the landing seemed to have torn in the bag.

"Be careful!" It was The Gardener. "We need to keep those bags full! Even a lost ounce will cost us!"

Suddenly, it all clicked in his mind. There was a reason why their magic contact was called The Gardener. "Back off or I'll burn all your weed sky high!" Kurt said threateningly, taking a small metal rectangle out of his pocket. No, it wasn't a lighter. It was actually just a USB with some designs for his final project of the term, but they didn't have to know that.

There was a bit of shuffling and Kurt could see the group of bodyguards start to back away from the path to the staircase. He dropped the sack full of the drug and slowly made his way across the room, holding the USB high and threateningly.

He eyed Blaine who was starting to get up and regain his balance. Kurt slowly made his way to the other boy and put his arm under his shoulder, helping him move across the room. They were nearly at the stairs when a loud voice shook him to his core. "That's not a lighter! Get them!"

Without much thinking, Kurt swung Blaine onto his back and took off up the stairs and onto the main deck. He felt Blaine's muscles flex against his neck as he held onto Kurt as he ran. "Let me off," Blaine said into his ear. His voice sounded weak and defensive, it was not the Blaine who whispered into his ear the previous night. "I can hold my weight."

"So can I. I'm not letting them take you." Kurt said quietly. There was a small sigh that came from Blaine's direction and he knew there was a smirk on the boy's face.

The second that he set foot on the main deck, whatever smile that Blaine put on Kurt's face faded instantly. Scattered on the deck were about two dozen men, all of them well built and staring at them with a deathly look in their eyes. The one who was dripping water all over the deck looked as if he could actually murder Kurt without a second thought.

"Actually..." Kurt said, lowering Blaine down. "I might need you."

He felt Blaine get off his back and take in the situation. "Don't worry. We got this." Despite the fact that the other boy sounded stronger, Kurt couldn't help but feel anxious about the situation. They were outnumbered, outmuscled and, all in all, completely screwed. Slowly, the men started moving in. "Ready?" Blaine breathed.

Kurt lowered his body and held up his fists in an attack position. "Ready." He responded quietly. "Go alpha!" He cried out before swinging his foot out in an arc, hitting the closest bodyguard in the thigh. 'Go alpha' meant nothing, to be honest, but he figured that it might make the men assume that they had a secret fighting strategy or something.

Behind him, Kurt heard skin hitting skin and he knew Blaine was already going head on into the brawl. It didn't really surprise him- his partner was a boxer at heart and had the arms for it. Kurt was more nimble and focused on acrobatics and his legs, once powerful for complicated dance moves, to form a destructive blow.

The two of them kept their backs very nearly against each other as they circled around the deck, throwing punches and kicks towards the men whose only motivation was anger and money. "I think we've overstayed our welcome." Blaine called to him.

As much as he didn't really want to admit it, they had to get out of there. They were fairing well now, but what about when The Gardener came back up? After he was able to confirm his bounty was safe, there would be nothing stopping him from killing the two of them on the spot. "Agreed!" Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and ran right between two of the men.

He looked back to see Blaine jumping over their arms as they ran the length of the main deck. They were feet from the rope bridge when two men landed in front of them, apparently jumping from the roof of the cabin where the person steering the boat would go. This ruined his plan. They needed to leave the ship running- otherwise The Gardener's henchmen would catch up to them before they could climb out of the water.

Kurt's grip on his friend slacked. He couldn't figure out a way out of here that would be quick enough. Every milliseconds standing here was another step closer to death, as far as he was concerned.

After what seemed like ages, Blaine stepped forward, reversed the grip on their hands so now he was leading Kurt, and ran towards the front mast. He looked at the other boy. There was no way off the ship now- men were coming towards them from both sides of the small cabin in front of them. "Blaine..." He said worriedly.

The boy pulled him close against his chest and uttered words he always wanted to hear: "Hold on tight". Without much thinking, Kurt threw his arms around the boy's neck and watched as Blaine wrapped one hand around a hanging rope and took out a small credit card with the other. He ran his fingers over the numbers and a sharp blade sprang out. With one swift motion, he cut another line on the mast.

Suddenly, they were soaring upwards in the air up the pole. Now that Kurt knew Blaine's plan, he decided to help out. He stuck out his foot and made hard contact against the metal mast. He pushed them towards the pier, but it wasn't enough. "Swing!" Blaine called to Kurt.

They used their combined mass to move themselves away from the pier and, right before they started to fall, rocket back towards the boardwalk. "Let go!" Kurt said, moments before they'd hit the top of their arch.

It was almost as if time was frozen, or at least slowed down. Kurt looked down as his grip on Blaine failed and he flew over the open water between the pier and the boat. It seemed like ages before Kurt actually felt himself fall, a victim to gravity's hand.

In an instant, his brain switched modes- from panicking to analyzing and competent. He needed to figure out how to survive this fall. A streetlight was off to his left of his trajectory. He shifted his weight and stretched his body, his fingertips wanting more than anything to touch the cool metal.

And they did.

The moment they connected, he held on for dear life as he swung himself from the overhanging light to the main pole before sliding down to the wooden planks of the boardwalk. He glanced at Blaine. He had used a trashcan as a springboard to gain control of himself and land smoothly. Kurt glanced back at the boat. The guards were already scrambling to cross the rope bridge.

There was only a moment's hesitation before they both sprinted down the boardwalk, quickly ducking into an alley and running along the shadows. "Do you think we lost them?" Kurt breathed as the two of them skidded across a corner.

The crash of a metal trashcan being thrown against a brick wall behind them answered the question.

So they ran faster.

At one point, Blaine silently pointed at a low-hanging fire escape. Kurt grinned and watched as Blaine sprinted up ahead, took a running jump, grabbed on the lowest rung and started to climb. With cat-like precision, Kurt followed as they raced up to the rooftop.

Catching their breath, they leaned over the edge slightly and watched anxiously as they watched a series of men run through the alley and head right at the end, completely ignoring the fire escape.

Kurt let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. He barely got time to inhale again before two strong arms embraced him, pulling him close. There was no second thought before he wrapped his arms around Blaine and joined him in a shaking hug. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

Blaine pulled away. He seemed okay. Maybe a daring escape and an adrenalin rush was all that the boy needed to get back on his feet. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Thanks." There was a small smirk on his face as he pulled away. "Not a bad first day, don't you think?"

"I think it was the worst first day I've seen in years." Kurt turned around to see the owner of the voice. On an adjacent rooftop stood a tall, lean, tan man, most of his features indistinguishable thanks to the setting sun behind him. The man slowly brought his hand to his ear and spoke calmly. "Found them."

"Run!" Blaine screamed. It was pointless though, as both he and Kurt were already mindlessly sprinting across the roof, jumping over ventilation equipment or whatever stood in their way. They didn't dare glance back at the man and the reinforcements. "Jump." His friend's hissed voice barely made it to his ears, but it got there quick enough for him to make the extra effort to sprint harder right before the ledge of the roof.

Kurt imaged that if he wasn't always being chased by people who wanted to kill or capture him, he'd like a controlled jump or fall, like jumping between the roofs of buildings.

He landed on the adjacent roof in a roll, to soften the impact on his body, and jumped up ready to run again before he heard a loud grunt from behind him. He turned around and saw Blaine's hands gripping the ledge, his body invisible to Kurt. Without thinking about the consequences, he dashed forward and grabbed his friend's hands, pulling him over the edge using all of his strength.

Once the other boy was safely on his feet, Kurt took him into a tight, short embrace before they turned to run again. This time, however, they rammed straight into a muscular chest. It was a different man, Kurt could tell from the way the body was built. He took Blaine's hand and turned to run in the other direction- perhaps they could find a gutter to slide down. But instead of freedom, they saw the first man looming over them.

"Split up?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Good idea." Blaine responded, a hint of nervousness in his voice. Kurt felt bad. The poor boy was probably exhausted and wanted to lie down. He didn't know what The Gardener did to Blaine on that boat of his. He almost shuddered at the thought. "I call the new guy."

Kurt smirked a little. "You always did like showing off by taking the stronger target." He saw the smirk on Blaine's face and felt reassured. They were going to be okay. With that, Blaine leapt backwards and Kurt pulled his hand back quickly before releasing a sharp left hook.

The man was expecting a righty, apparently, since Kurt hit him square in the ear. "Little brat." The words escaped the man's lips before kicking Kurt in the stomach, causing him to stumble a few feet back.

He glanced up at his enemy. He was smarter than the other ones. He let out a shout as he flung his foot out, aiming for his neck, maybe his head. Instead of bone and cartilage, he felt a hand grab his food, twist it and push him brutally to the side. He stumbled a little before harshly falling to the ground in a heap.

Kurt bounced up and instantly started throwing punches at the man. It was easier to fight when it wasn't a five-against-one scenario, but the man seemed to be able to match every single move he made. He even tried to use some of the agility Mike had taught him during high school and incorporate it into his fighting. But every move was met by the man's limbs. "You're pathetic." The man grunted.

In that instant- everything seemed to decelerate. The man pulling Kurt towards his body, the knee to the stomach, even the pain that came along with it seemed to have slowed down. The pain hurt at different levels for longer time intervals than normal.

He felt bone crack as his head flew backwards from a punch that was delivered. Blood pooled in his mouth when he realized something. The man's voice, the one that told him he was pathetic. It was familiar. And he probably would have figured this out a lot sooner, had the man had a mohawk instead of a full head of hair.

"Puck?" The question barely made it out of his lips before Kurt fell back, unconscious.


	5. Chapter 4

The only thing that he managed to comprehend was the throbbing pain in the side of his head. He closed his eyes tighter and tried to relieve the pain by ignoring it. Unsurprisingly, this method of healing did not work. A soft groan escaped his lips as he raised his hand to touch his head. Rough bandages ran under his fingertips as he explored the area.

Finally, his last moments of consciousness returned to him. He sat up quickly; swinging his legs out of the bed he was in and momentarily blacked out. After a minute of blinking and steadying himself, he looked around. He was in a sterile-white room with a window and a whiteboard and he was wearing a hospital gown.

Nothing was written on the board and sun was shining through the window. Slowly, he slid off the bed and padded around the room, looking for clues to where he was. He opened a drawer and found jeans and a black t-shirt in his size. Quickly, he slipped on the shirt and opened the door to leave the room.

Outside was not a hospital; in fact, it was more like a business office. Instantly, Kurt knew where he was. He took off at a run down the hallway, turning heads but not really caring who looked. Suddenly, an arm reached out of a cubical and jerked him inside, slamming him into a chair.

Blaine stood in front of him, dressed in a suit, and smiled. "Glad to see you awake buddy. But you know, they told me you shouldn't partake in extraneous exercise for the first day or four."

With a slightly confused look on his face, Kurt looked around the cubical- it was Blaine Anderson's, that's for sure. There were pictures of him and Blaine in frames, pictures of him and his brother performing some musical number tacked to a cork board and even a small desktop computer humming away in the corner. On the screen was a live stream of a hospital-like room, presumably the one that Kurt just came from. In a mirror on the desk, he saw his reflection for the first time. He was badly bruised by his nose, eyes and a wrap of ACE bandage around his head held a gauze pad in place on his right temple. A few stitches followed his jaw line. "When'd we get back to headquarters?"

"Yesterday evening." Good. It had only been a day. "Once we were cornered by those two thugs, reinforcements came by, for our side." Blaine explained, hopping up onto his desk. "Apparently when you went into the water, you short circuited the earpiece that sent off an alert to the Commander. They had been following us ever since we left the boat. Apparently you getting knocked out was the final straw, so they moved in and took care of the two guys."

"What happened to them?"

"The Commander put them in lockdown downstairs. They'll be put on trial tomorrow or Friday. The Gardener apparently has a criminal record. He'll probably get life. His little bodyguards... they'll probably get out just in time to enter a retirement home."

Kurt looked at his feet. "It's like going from one jail to the next." He said with a small smile on his face. It wasn't funny. It wasn't even worth the grin. But for some reason, he had to do it to get the knot out of his stomach. "I'm going to go on a walk." He said, standing up.

His friend nodded, stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm so glad you're okay." He whispered into Kurt's ear quietly. Despite Blaine's apathetic view on the events that occurred the last few hours, he could tell this statement was nothing short of the truth and he meant it with all his heart.

So it wasn't hard for Kurt to bring his arms around the boy and hug him back with just as much force. He tilted his head and kissed Blaine's ear teasingly. "I'm really glad to be with you again." He whispered before pulling away. "I'll come back later, okay?" He gave Blaine a small wink and left the room, his smile slowly turning into a frown.

As soon as he turned another corner, he broke into a slight jog and made his way to the elevators, pushing the 'down' button on arrival. When an elevator finally came, he walked in, pressed a button and stood with his hands behind his back as he felt the elevator descend through the building.

The doors opened to a floor he had never been to. Sure, he had heard and been told about it, but he had never been down here personally. But he wasn't just a lost child, and he didn't want to be turned around and sent back to the recovery ward, so he walked through the hall with his head held high, as if he belonged.

There was a secretary sitting behind a desk typing at a computer as if her salary depended on how many words per minute she typed. He approached and gave her a slight nod. "I'm here to interrogate one of the prisoners brought in yesterday."

She looked up from her keyboard with a rather uninterested look on her face. "We didn't get any notice that any interrogations were set for today."

"Sorry. I just got out of a meeting." He said, fairly certain that wouldn't make his problem go away.

The woman shrugged. "I'll send word to your supervisor later. Come with me." She stood up, grabbed a bunch of keys off her desk and emerged from a side door. Kurt followed obediently as she led him down a series of hallways. Finally, they came to a row of a dozen doors. "Who do you want to question?"

Kurt didn't know which cell was Puck's, and even felt a little bad that he was even in a cell... even if his old friend did try to kill him. He slowly made his way down the hall, glancing into the cells, for not even a half second. He didn't want any of them to get a good look at him. Finally, he stopped at one and looked at the secretary. "This one." He said rather shortly.

She nodded. "Go down the hall and make the second left and then the fifth right. I'll be right down with him." Kurt nodded and followed the rather inconvenient instructions. It didn't really surprise him. If the government specialized in anything particular, it was being inconvenient and mastering the art of paperwork.

When he arrived at his destination, he saw a line of chairs in front of a counter which had a glass pane joining it to the ceiling. On each piece of glass had a telephone attached.

They were all set up for a classic jail-visitor confrontation.

A guard standing at the door motioned to one of the mini-phone booths before returning to his stony demeanour. Kurt nodded and sat down in the chair in front of the counter that the guard pointed too. Not a moment later, a door opened on the other side of the glass and Puck was led in by the secretary. Another guard walked in after his old friend and the door closed.

Kurt reached up and took the phone receiver off its hook and pressed it up to its ear, looking at Puck for him to do the same. Only once the phone was against Puck's ear did Kurt speak. "I thought you were going to California?"

"I thought you were going to New York." Despite the whole situation- speaking through a telephone in a government facility- the small exchange managed to bring smiles to their faces.

He gave a small shrug. "Things happened." Kurt said. It was too much to explain everything involving the CIA. Plus, it was irrelevant. "Has anyone been down to see you since you got here?"

Puck shook his head. "Naw, they just brought us in and locked us up. Gotta give it to you- you guys are fast." Kurt laughed a little. "I'm sorry about what happened to your head. I never really took you to be a fighter back in school."

"It's fine. No one really did." Kurt admitted. It wasn't as much of an admission as it was a statement- in high school he was merely the singing kid in Glee club who had just as high ambitions as perky Rachel Berry. There was a moment of silence before he asked the next question. "So what happened? I don't believe you just left California to become a goon. Your pool-cleaning business seemed to be going well when we graduated."

Kurt watched as Puck ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He still thought it was strange seeing his friend without the mohawk. "I did go to Cali. Was working a really good area too. I got an apartment, had a steady girlfriend. Not to mention all the babes whose pools I was cleaning." Puck gave him a smile that he nervously returned. Kurt wondered momentarily if his friend forgot that he was gay. "But after a while, it got cold and people stopped paying, money was short.

I didn't want to be like my dad, I didn't want to crawl back to Lima and beg for support. Now listen- I wasn't a total helpless case. Just no place wanted to hire me." Puck gave a shrug and a flash of annoyance went across his face. "So I ended up talking to some people and I told them I could fight and the next thing I know I'm working for guys who don't tell me their names, but the money's good so I didn't complain. A few weeks later, they paid for a trip to Florida and then I met you." The story wasn't air-tight, but it was very Puckerman; Kurt believed every word.

He leaned in close to the glass that separated them and spoke, staring Puck in the eyes as he spoke, trying to be as sincere as he could in the situation. "I know you meant well. If your story is true, then you do have a chance in court. Just make sure that they know that you were merely following orders from people unknown to you." Kurt said anxiously. Puck might not listen to him and mess this up. Then, nothing Kurt could do would help him out. "Understand? I know you're a good guy, who's made a bad choice to avoid shame. You have to convince the jury of this as well."

Puck laughed a little. "As long as the majority of them are women, I'll have them wrapped up around my finger no problem." He gave Kurt a wink and his stomach plummeted to his feet. Despite this, he grinned.

"Just do the right thing, okay?" Kurt said, his smile fading to emphasize his seriousness.

Puck nodded. "Anything for you, Sparkle Pants." Despite the horrible nickname, Kurt cracked a smirk. It was the classic Noah Puckerman that he remembered; a smartass but a nice guy.

"Good. I'll see you after the trial, okay?" All he could do from freaking out was to smile and try to calm down an already very composed Puck.

"Sounds good." When they hung up the phones, Puck was led back out by the security guard and Kurt was left standing in the room with only the other security guard as company.

He ran his hands through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. "He's screwed." With that, he turned and jogged out of the room to the elevators. When he was alone in the moving box, he felt his muscles ache with pain and disuse.

When the doors opened, Kurt started walking towards an office that was too familiar to him. He stopped at the door, looked at the name plate and knocked on the Commander's door. A voice answered him: "Come in." He opened the door and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. "Ah. Agent Hummel... it's rather nice to see you up and about. Did the nurses say you passed the exam?"

Kurt felt nerves in his stomach as he thought of what to say. "I find that irrelevant at the moment, sir." He didn't know what test the nurses were supposed to put him through, but he was sure that he would have failed it. He watched as anger flashed across the Commander's face. Kurt was sure no one spoke to him like this before; especially someone at such a low rank. "I'm here to talk about the sentencing of The Gardener's bodyguards."

The Commander straightened the papers he was working on and put them down before carefully putting his hands together and looking at him. "Oh, are you?"

"Yes, sir, about the one named Noah Puckerman. I went to school with him when I was younger and I know he's no threat to a fly, much less the nation. I've talked to him. He's just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was just trying to get an honest dime. If you ask him, he doesn't even know The Gardener's name." Well, he thought, he didn't know The Gardener's name either, so that wasn't much of an accomplishment. People like him preferred anonymity when it came to their business. "Whatever his sentence is, it shouldn't be more than a year in prison and some community service hours."

A smirk overcame the Commander's face and Kurt's stomach twisted itself into a bigger knot. "Why do you think you can come in here and demand something like that?" To this, Kurt had virtually no answer, as he really had no reason to come in here and ask for such a favour other than the fact that Puck used to be his friend. "After all, this Puckerman-"

"Puck, sir."

"Puckerman was the one who hurt you and landed you in the medical ward. As far as I'm concerned, he seriously hurt one of my best young operatives and should be treated nearly as harshly as The Gardener himself. He almost killed you."

"But it was on orders!" Kurt said, irritated at the man for not opening up his mind. "And as the person who was injured," he pointed to the bandage around his head, "shouldn't my statement saying he's a nice guy be taken with any ounce seriousness?"

The Commander sighed and leaned back against his chair, clearly mulling the whole situation over. "Look, I really can't pull strings just because you were an old school friend of one of the suspects."

Kurt nodded. "How much jail time do you think he's facing for this?" That information couldn't possibly be classified, could it?

"Five years minimum." The Commander's voice was steady as shock passed over Kurt's face. Five years? Puck didn't deserve five years, not for what he had done. He had just tried to get back on his feet.

He sighed and nodded. "Thank you for hearing me out, sir." With a slightly defeated air, Kurt walked back to Blaine's cubicle and sat down in the chair. His partner wasn't around, so he pulled the chair up to the computer, opened a word editor and started typing.

After a while of playing the wordsmith, Kurt hit the 'send' button on the email client, took a post-it note off of Blaine's desk and scribbled down six words:

_See you at my place.  
__- Kurt_

With that, he got up and left the building. The cab ride home was rather quiet, which gave him an eerie feeling. Despite his nerves, he shook it off. There was no reason for him to feel uncomfortable. The Commander or his staff, which was substantially more likely, saw him leave and take a legal method of transportation back to his apartment.

He climbed the stairs to his landing and fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He heard someone come out of a nearby apartment but paid them no mind. "Oh Kurt, honey! Look at your head! I thought you were going on vacation, not getting brain surgery!" He turned to see an elderly woman standing in her nightgown, despite the early hour.

Kurt gave a warm smile. "I was on vacation, Mrs. Ruback. It was just a small volleyball accident, don't worry. Thanks for asking though. How's your hip?"

"Like a newborns'!" She laughed, prompting Kurt to let out a bit of a forced laughter, before waving goodbye and re-entering her apartment.

Even with the CIA being anything but on his side, he knew the protocol- lie when inquired about missions or their injuries. It wasn't really hard to do, and Mrs. Ruback was old enough that she could think that volleyball could produce such a severe head injury, stitches and bruising. Heck, she probably would forget she even saw him by the end of the day.

He turned the key in the lock and walked inside. He took a deep breath into the stale air and immediately felt relief and comfort. There was something about being home that would always sooth him.

As he pulled off his shirt, he walked over to the couch and fell back into it, his feet propped up on the arm rest and his head on a pillow near the other end. He let his muscles relax for a moment as he brought his hand up to his face and traced the line of stitches on his jaw, reflecting back on the day's events.

He was about to lean over and turn on the television when the door burst open. Kurt looked up to see Blaine standing in the doorway, a mixture of confusion, anger and hurt on his face. "You quit?" Blaine's voice was dry and empty.

With a slight groan, Kurt sat up and nodded. "That would appear to be the case." Either The Commander spread the word of his resignation quickly or Blaine was told directly... probably the latter.

"Why'd you do that?" He had never heard Blaine have this particular, hurt tone. Kurt felt bad for him. He didn't intend to hurt Blaine by resigning from the CIA- he didn't even realize that was a possibility.

Kurt gave a small shrug in response. He honestly didn't know what to say to not offend him or make things worse. "I have seen many people go through the justice system run by the CIA. Most of them are actually innocent, in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Commander doesn't help even when you come to him with evidence, or even your own experiences. If he vouches for anyone, they'll sure get a reduced sentence, if anything. It's a corrupt system that has no wiggle room; solely based on rules."

Blaine gave a sigh and sat down next to him, putting a strong arm around his shoulder. Kurt noticed how he was doing his best not to put too much pressure on his shoulder. In response, he leaned in and put his head against the nook between Blaine's shoulder and chest. "So you're mad at bureaucracy. Trust me Kurt; you're not the first one." Kurt looked up to see Blaine smiling down at him. It made him feel all funny inside as he looked him over before reaching up and placing a small kiss on Blaine's lips. Despite returning the kiss, Blaine laughed and shook his head. "Hold on you- I'm not done yet."

He gave Blaine his best pouty look and puppy-dog eyes but let him continue.

"But just because you're mad at someone doesn't mean that you should quit the best job you have and abandon people close to you."

There were a few moments where Kurt just waited Blaine out, just in case he had more to say. But when it was clear the boy was done, he sighed, as if disappointed he couldn't stay quiet longer. "I'm not abandoning anyone. No one there loves me. They just use me."

"Lies and slander, Kurt. You're abandoning me. I love you... more than anything in the world. Do I mean nothing to you?" Blaine's adorable look melted into one of pain and distrust.

Kurt was horrified, and he was sure his face showed it. "No! Of course not!" He turned and held a hand against Blaine's face. "Blaine. I adore you. You are my world now. There are no more stupid missions getting in my way of being with you now. No more dangerous stunts. It's just you and me." He leaned in and kissed Blaine deeply, letting his apology and promise shine through.

When they both required air, they broke apart and looked deeply into each other's eyes. "No. It's not." Kurt looked at Blaine as if he just said that his father died. "When we came back, The Commander offered me a full time job."

"So? You can keep the job. You love it. I can see it in your face. You can do whatever you want. I have nothing to do with your career."

"That's the thing. You did." Blaine took a deep breath and took Kurt's hands in his. "Before The Commander told me you resigned, he offered me a promotion. I'm to be abroad with my partner for a year undercover in a school for the musically inclined." Kurt's face fell. He knew where this was going. "I thought it meant I was going with you." He stopped and couldn't meet Kurt's eyes. "I'm not. I'm going with a guy named Ryan."

His hands slipped out of Blaine's and into his lap and sighed, thinking for a moment. He nodded and smiled, pushing Blaine's hands into his own lap. "You should do it." He plastered a rather large, fake, grin onto his face. "You'll enjoy it, I'm sure. And we'll still email and call each other. You can probably ask The Commander for a secure line." He leaned over and kissed Blaine's cheek. "It'll be fun. I'm never saying goodbye to you."

**Author's Note:  
Woo! Sequels to fics I like rock!  
Anyway. I did leave it open-ended, just in case I have the urge to send Agents Hummel and Anderson out on another journey. If you would like to see another adventure, please comment/inbox/something so I know. Thanks!  
-longlost10  
**


	6. Epilogue

The next few weeks put a strain into Kurt's life; everything was different. Blaine had officially moved in with Kurt, which made them both quite happy, despite Blaine ruthlessly training for the music academy that The Commander was sending him at the start of the spring semester. Kurt had gone ahead and started looking for a new job. There wasn't much available for him at the moment, with his limited education, so he re-enrolled at his university for the spring (to keep him busy with Blaine gone) and he got a job in retail until the start of term.

Despite being in training, Blaine served as Kurt's eyes and ears in the CIA in regards to Puck's trial, as he had refused to go himself. He'd look hopeful when his boyfriend came home, all excited for news about the defence, or the offense, or whatever what happening in court at the time. The worst days were when nothing happened at all, and he knew that Puck was just waiting in a holding cell.

When Blaine came home and brought news that Puck's jury had gone to deliberate his fate, Kurt nodded and went about cooking the two of them dinner in silence. He refused to talk for the rest of the night.

It took them five days.

They were the longest days of Kurt's life, or that was how it seemed.

Finally, on the fifth day, Blaine opened the door and told Kurt to sit down. He held Kurt's hands and explained that Puck's trial took the longest because The Commander spoke at the end, right before the jury went into deliberation. While the jury did find him guilty of aiding a criminal and partaking in violent crimes, The Commander said a reliable source told him that Puck was a good person, and was just in a bad situation. Puck had, apparently, made a deal with the prosecution to testify against his old co-workers in hopes for a lesser punishment.

And so it was.

His sentence was reduced. From fifteen years in prison to two years with more community service hours than Puck knew what to do with. He would also be under house arrest once he was released. He would also be eligible for parole.

Kurt blinked at Blaine, stunned. "You're kidding me!"

"And if he's good in prison, he could get out earlier on good behaviour. There's a good chance he'd get out in one year or less." Blaine explained. Kurt knew all this- it was required of him when he worked with the CIA to know all the legal jargon, even if he didn't need to use it in his work.

He laughed, throwing his arms around Blaine and hugging him tight. He had forgiven Puck for everything he had done ages ago- he was glad that a group of his peers was able to forgive him as well.

With that hurtle tackled, the only one left was the new school term. He helped Blaine train on his off hours, singing, dancing and fighting with him to cover all of the areas that he'd need when in the new school.

But no amount of training would prepare them for the day that Blaine had to board a train with Ryan Gheiler, his new partner. They stood on the platform with tears pooling in all four eyes. "I'll see you in a few weeks for break, right?" Kurt asked, hopeful.

His boyfriend shook his head. "No. Full term, plus some courses over the summer. I'll call you though." The Commander was nice enough to give the both of them phones that were, more or less, impossible to tap.

"Promise?" Kurt asked, looking down at their entwined hands.

Blaine kissed Kurt slowly, passionately, just like the day that Kurt resigned from the CIA. "I promise." A warning train whistle echoed throughout the platform and stragglers hustled to the proper train. "Goodbye Kurt Hummel. I'll talk to you soon."

He moved in to kiss Kurt on the cheek but Kurt moved away. "Silly Blaine. I'm never saying goodbye to you." Kurt kissed their hands and then Blaine's lips, pulling away ever so slightly. "I'll see you soon, Mr. Anderson."


End file.
